January 31, 2007

The Venus of Willendorf

Against Dr. Me's specific instructions, I ventured out of my house today. I had a visit last night from some friends who I shared my plan of pregnancy isolation with. Like all good friends are supposed to, they blanketed me with assurances that I was in fact not hideous, I could benefit from social interaction, and I was a blessing in the lives of others. Silly me took this as an objective opinion even though they probably would have crowned me Miss America if I had a family of moray eels dangling from my nose. What else are friends for? After they left I felt terrific about life, the universe and everything.

When my husband suggested we actually leave the house I was receptive. My doctor never had to know. Fueled by the pep talk from the previous night, we planned a few errands. First a stop to Costco. Then a visit to a department store. Things had gone pretty well and even though I was feeling a little queasy, we decided to make one last pit stop at our favorite haunt, Jamba Juice.

As we pulled into the parking lot Spike noticed a pizza place next door. He reminded me that we had a coupon for the pizza chain but this particular location wasn't listed. "Why don't you go ask them if we can use it anyway?" I suggested.

"You better go instead. You're cute. They'll say yes to you," Spike replied. I looked in the rear view mirror and saw that I was in fact, not cute and told him as much.
"Honey. Trust me. You're cute. They'll do it for you."

Stroking the residual warm fuzzies from my friends' visit, I decided to trust everyone's optimism and give it a shot. I rolled out of the car and waddled into the restaurant repeating a modified mantra from the movie What About Bob, "I look good. I look great. I look wonderful."

"Can I use this coupon here?" I asked with an encouraging smile.
The bald, randomly pierced cashier glanced quickly at the coupon. "No," he said shortly and turned back to the oven. Apparently being blond isn't all it used to be.

What else could I do? I headed back to the car to get Spike and go for smoothies. As I left the pizzeria I fell in behind a group of ridiculously dressed "Emo" teens. They looked like walking turds deposited from The Ramons and were about that big. You've seen these kids around - they dress all in black, spike up their dyed black hair and wear those ridiculously skinny pants. They were taking up the entire sidewalk and walking as slowly as possible to keep their pants from falling off their pathetic excuses for rear ends with mixed results. I resigned myself to walking behind them all the way back to my car listening to their vapid conversation.

Then I caught their scent. It was pomade mixed with pot mixed with teenager and I decided if I wanted to carry this baby to full term I'd have to cut ahead. I discretely slipped ahead of them. As I did their conversation stopped. Then I heard giggled whispers punctuated with an occasional guffaw. Were they talking about me? Maybe. My girth is somewhat comical and I couldn't begrudge them a little merriment on my derrière's behalf. Who cares what these little turds thought anyway, right?

As I reached the end of the sidewalk I turned towards my car, revealing my full glorious profile backlit by the setting sun. I heard a reverential, "woah..." followed by raucous laughter from the entire turd squad. With embarrassment I rushed to my car.

"Did they take the coupon?" asked Spike, hopefully.
"Do you still want to go to Jamba Juice?"
"No." I slammed the car in reverse, hit the gas and to my delight saw the pack of teens directly behind my car.
"Hollywood, watch out for those kids!" Spike warned.

My murder attempt was foiled. Now the jury would have to classify it as premeditated rather than manslaughter. I slammed on the brakes inches from their weak little legs and grudgingly allowed them to live. One of the turds smirked at me and they slunk off.

Spike sensed my mood and the car ride home was silent. I knew it was silly to care what these idiot teens thought but I admit, I was riled. I had given society a chance and it had failed. I tried to just breath it out and think about what they would look like swirling down a toilet screaming for their lives. After a few minutes I was on the mend. Then from her car seat my darling angel daughter piped up with a sugary sweet voice. "I hate you, Mom!" Despite her declaration's stoney reception she tried again earnestly, "I hate you, Mom! I hate you, Mom!"

So there it was. I held back the tears as long as possible but as soon as we got home I locked myself in the bathroom and sobbed on the toilet for a good fifteen minutes into my puffy thighs. When I emerged, bleary eyed, my good-intentioned husband tenderly suggested we order a supreme pizza to make me feel better. Big mistake.

You know, those Negative Population Growth people may be on to something.


Bek said...

Oh man... I have been lurking for awhile (and I am sorry that I don't remember how I found you, probably a comment....) and the last two posts have had me chuckling all day. Wait..I am not laughing at the pregnant part of the story, the turd squad part of it. You have a way with words and I just wanted to say hi.

P.S. I also loved the Dr. Me post. I was only pregnant once (but am now the mom of three) and even though it has been YEARS I can still remember how that last trimester felt. Follow Dr. Mom and you will be fine... make the girlfriends come to YOU!

The Wiz said...

You should never leave the house again. Ever. Just stay home and blog, and make the rest of us laugh.

clyde said...

Since you have been feeling like an American Idol contestant lately, please you keep blogging on our behalf. Pretend that we're the judges and you're the main reason we’re laughing. BLOG SARAH BLOG! just for entertainment purposes for boring people like us, you know:)

PS: We love you dearly!

Rachel said...

Oh my! Penny's comment was just too much!

kaff said...

I can't imagine sweet little Penny doing anything like that! I thought only extra kids did that to their extra parent. I almost feel like a real parent now! What a way to be validated...

Heather O. said...

At least you didn't have a sandwich on your butt.

Elizabeth said...

Have you seen Hope is Emo?

"I wish my lawn was emo so it would cut itself."

Azúcar said...

Amen and Hallelujah, pass the ammunition.

amanda said...

I had the same experience when I was about 2 weeks before my due date, but it was with NICE teenage kids at church. I picked up my two-year-old, and he tried to swing his legs around my non-existent waist, and the only place to clasp his legs was right above my large tummy. When he did so, it pulled my shirt tight against my belly, and some nearby teenagers were watching, and their eyes popped out and they started laughing like crazy. There was no doubt it was me they were laughing at--they came and apologized and said, "But you have to admit, your belly is pretty big these days." Grrrrrrr. Good luck not killing anyone.

Adrienne said...

Man, we have a TON of those little jerkwads in Bloomington. I guess life's hard when you're trying to be the emo-est kid in Indiana. Fear not, one morning they'll wake up, look in their Hot Topic-ed closet and think "Dear God! Dashboard Confessional *does* suck!"

Until that day we can only hope they wander in front of (or behind) our cars.

A Payne said...

The last time I got whistled at I was 8 months pregnant with twins. Go figure.

citymama1 said...

That stinks. I have yet to be openly mocked yet, but your story makes me realize that that day is not to far off.
It also reminded me of the movie "Fried Green Tomatoes" when Katy Bates character gets the parking space she's been waiting for stolen by some skiny 80's punk girls and she gets mad and rams their car.
"Towanda!!" baby.

Kristine said...

I have nothing to add.
Society sucks.
Be a hermit.
It is highly underrated.

So sorry for the response from the emo-ridden teens.
Remember though, teenagers are a disease unto themselves and most realize that they were heartless, thoughtless morons at some point in their lives.

So you didn't even get a Jamba juice to suck down in sorrow?
I am really sorry.

J-Rod said...

Why don't you post some objective data about your pregnant self, such as pictures or before and current weights. Then you will get a true response to how you really look since people in cyberspace don't mince words. My guess is that Adam is right that you are actually cute in a pregnant sort of way, and it's just the progesterone that makes you think you're fat. Unless you really are fat, and then I apologize for putting my foot in my mouth. Again.

Sarah said...

J-rod, yeah right! Good luck finding any woman who would do that.

Bek - thanks for outing yourself! I like your blogs with all your adorable family pics and am flattered you lurk around here :)

mumsy editor said...

In the Deep South, down North Carolina Way, (where the Benac Clan spent 5 1/2 years), saying "Ahh hayte yew!" was actually a compliment. If you ran into your girlfriend and she was dressed to the nines and defintely looked better than you, you might utter some sweet little compliment such as, "Judy! You look goooooowed! Ah hayte chew!

...To which her grateful reply might be, "Thaynks, Sugah!"

Has Penny been South lately?

Another Southern delicacy of speech (and those Southerners are delicate if nothing else) might run like this:, (Mother to young son): "Chawles, get on ovah heah NAYOW or ah'm goin' beat yew to dayeth!"

(Obedient son, looking puppy-eyed at mother): "Yes Ma'am."

...and Chawles lives another day.

Rachelle Black said...

lpyifnHa-ha-ha!!! Towanda indeed... one of my favorite movie moments.

When I was pregnant with my son oh, sooo, many, many years ago.... a cute young teenager at a movie theatre came on to me. He was totally smitten, and shocked that I was 4 months pregnant and married. It was hilarious, and so completely validating to my femininity. (how *do* you spell that word???)
My best friend laughed and laughed at how he mooned over me and looked so devastated when I told him I was married.... and that, no, I wouldn't consider dating on the side.

Where are the teenagers like that???!! Now that I'm fat and TOTALLY married, a little validation would be nice every now and then, yathink? :))